


Work for It

by thejabberwock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Dean Winchester, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Throne Sex, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 20:51:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11238951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejabberwock/pseuds/thejabberwock
Summary: Dean wants to get off, but Crowley's preoccupied.





	Work for It

“Wanna get involved here?” Dean gripes as he angles his hips to take Crowley’s dick deeper, but even that doesn’t catch the bastard’s attention. His fingers tighten at Dean’s hip, smirking as he takes the ball back from his slobbering hellhound. 

“Good girl,” he praises and Dean rolls his eyes.  

“Seriously?” 

Crowley lifts his head, amusement in his dark eyes as he tosses the ball away; the massive hound’s nails scrabble against the concrete as she chases it.  “You want a compliment, darling, you’ll have to work for it.” 

“Work for it?” Dean echoes caustically, but it doesn’t stop him enjoying the stretch of Crowley’s dick as he slides up and down slowly. “I’m sitting on your dick,” he pants, “while you play fetch with your dumbass–”

“Ah, ah, ah, what have I said about insulting my girl?” Crowley chides.  The stupid beast is back, snuffling at Crowley’s arm; Dean’s too. He makes a face and shifts away from her cold nose.  

“Damn it, Crowley…”

The thwack of the ball as it hits the wall distracts Dean from the rest of his rant. Crowley looks pleased with himself as he ignores Dean to whistle for the hound to return to him. He’s having way too much fun, Dean thinks.  At his expense. He knows how much Crowley enjoys this though, Dean in his lap while he fucks up into him. 

So if Crowley wants to play… 

Dean puts his hand to Crowley’s throat, thumb edging near his Adam’s apple.  

And that gives him the attention he wants, the smirk traded for speculation. “Mm, that’s better, isn’t it?” Crowley murmurs as the excitable hellhound scampers toward them. And to think Dean used to be scared of the things. 

His fingers tighten, and he stills his hips. “Get rid of the dog.” 

There’s a spark of amusement in Crowleys’ eyes, but it doesn’t mask the naked want that seems to be his baseline; for almost as long as Dean’s known him. “Bed,” he says, in the hound’s general direction and that’s all it takes before she’s trotting off.  Crowley’s eyes stay on Dean’s face. “Happy?” he asks. 

“Not especially,” Dean retorts, even as he sinks down all the way on Crowley’s dick once more.  “Any time you wanna be a part of this,” he prompts. He doesn’t expect the sharp thrust of Crowley’s hips; can’t stop the yelp that escapes.  Crowley smirks up at him. 

“Happy  _now_?” 

Dean ignores him. His cock is throbbing, growing heavier. He plants his palms on Crowley’s shoulders as he twists his hips. Incrementally, just to screw with him and then grunts in encouragement when Crowley reaches between them to cradle his balls. “Yeah,” Dean says, low and rough. “Like that.” 

“I know you do,” Crowley says into his shoulder, his other hand pressed into Dean’s back as he thrusts up again. “I know everything you like.” Lips wet against his skin because he may be a bastard, but he’s a sentimental bastard.  “I know everything about you, Dean.” 

“Less schmaltz, more fucking,” Dean mutters. There’ll be time enough for that later. Crowley likes to cuddle. Orgasms first, as far as Dean is concerned. “Come on,” he orders gruffly, wrapping his arms around Crowley’s neck to get better leverage as he moves. “Need more…” 

“Just let me do it, darling,” Crowley breathes.  “There we are, just like that.” Harder jabs of his hips, erratic in the best way, Dean never knowing when Crowley’s dick will hit just the right spot; takes his breath every time. He’s panting Crowley’s name, but his own is a litany, unbroken, from the king of hell’s lips, so it’s not like it matters.  

And finally, finally, the pleasure hits its peak and everything whites out, Dean’s body moving of its own accord, grappling for the last tendrils of his orgasm.  He can feel Crowley’s dick pulsing inside him and that makes it last a little longer.  He sighs, long and loud into the side of Crowley’s face as the boneless feeling weighs him down.  

Crowley’s nuzzling at his neck, because of course he is. Dean lets him, runs a hand through his dark hair and stays where he is. He glances over his shoulder when he hears a whine from the corner.  

The damn dog is still watching them from her bed.  

“Your dumbass dog’s a voyeur,” Dean mutters as he shifts up and off Crowley’s softening cock. 

Crowley makes a noise of protest but the loss of Dean’s ass doesn’t stop him from clicking his fingers at her. “Here, girl.” 

She lumbers back over, nose just as wet and slobbery as she greets them. 

“Ugh,” Dean mutters, but he pats her head anyway as he stumbles up to find his clothes. And something to clean up with. He catches Crowley’s smile as he picks up his boxers. He’s still fondling the damn dog. Rolling his eyes, Dean suggests, “Shower?”

Crowley pats the hound’s muzzle as he stands, and then ignores her completely as he crosses into Dean’s space. Smiling, Dean leads the way.


End file.
